Yan Zhuoxu carried the food box back to the house.
The morning light was desolate.
He sat at the desk, motionless as a stone.
Her hand, hanging down on her knees, slowly twirled the dark Bodhi prayer beads with her fingertips.
One hundred and eight beads passed through his cold fingertips one by one.
It goes on and on, without end.
"I am deeply grateful for the Master's kindness."
"I will remember this for the rest of my life."
lifetime?
Falsehoods and reckless words.
If we're going down the mountain today, what's the point of talking about a lifetime?
Moreover, they haven't even come down the mountain yet.
They then fail to show gratitude and thank the wrong person.
Yan Zhuoxu strained his fingers, causing the prayer beads to collide and produce a dull clattering sound.
The sunlight filtering through the window cast a silent shadow on his drooping eyelashes, obscuring all his expression.
Buzz—
The sound of the ancient temple bell echoed, overpowering the rustling pines and entering the meditation room.
The time for listening to the sutra in the front hall has arrived.
Yan Zhuoxu lowered his gaze, which fell upon the soup bowl in front of him.
The osmanthus and red bean soup had long since cooled down.
He didn't touch a spoon, his thin lips were pursed, and even his jawline was slightly tightened.
He got up and went to the front hall.
The temple path was quiet. After turning a few corners, Yan Zhuoxu saw an osmanthus tree planted not far away and paused for a moment.
He turned and walked down another path.
...
Today's lecture is given by Abbot Liaowu.
Yan Zhuoxu sat on the futon, listening to the abbot's unhurried voice, his nose twitching as he caught a very faint scent of osmanthus.
I glanced sideways and saw the osmanthus incense holder on the offering table.
The incense smoke wafted through the air, penetrating deep into the lungs.
A hint of irritation crept onto Yan Zhuoxu's brow.
The scriptures were hard to absorb, so he gently twirled his prayer beads, but his gaze drifted to the osmanthus tree framed outside the window.
Suddenly, I was stunned.
There were so many osmanthus trees in the temple!
He had never noticed before.
"Kongchen, you tell me, what is dependent origination and emptiness?" Abbot Liaowu's voice was gentle and clear, like an ancient chime, penetrating the thoughts.
Yan Zhuoxu was taken aback and came to his senses.
His thin lips were pressed tightly together.
She realized with a bad feeling that she had actually been distracted by Shen Zhiyi.
His brows furrowed, and his expression turned cold.
He twirled his prayer beads and said, "All phenomena arise from causes and conditions, and all phenomena cease due to causes and conditions, just like this flower outside the window."
He pointed to the osmanthus tree.
"This flower blooms because of sunshine and rain, and falls because of yesterday's heavy rain. Life and death are nothing but dreams and illusions. When fate brings us together, we gather; when fate takes us apart, we disperse. All things should be like this."
Therefore, there is no need to be attached, because everything is empty.
The abbot nodded.
"That's exactly right."
"If we rejoice when this flower blooms or lament when it withers, we are actually caught in our own attachment. We do not realize that all things are empty. In fact, this flower has never bloomed, nor has it ever withered."
"Only by breaking through illusions can one transcend and be free."
Yan Zhuoxu felt as if a thunderbolt had struck his heart.
yes.
She is going down the mountain today.
Our fate has run its course.
Come when you come, go when you go.
Why get so hung up on those inexplicable and unclear entanglements?
He's deluded.
Yan Zhuoxu put down in an instant.
Just then, the young novice monk rushed in from outside the hall, exclaiming, "Oh no! The road down the mountain is blocked!"
Crack!
The prayer beads broke.
*
Shen Zhiyi was doing her hair in the meditation room when she heard Shen Bi's words and turned around in surprise.
"What did you say?"
"During Master Kongchen's morning prayers, he accidentally broke his prayer beads and asked to be punished by writing scriptures a hundred times?"
Shen Bi nodded.
"This servant also finds it strange. How could someone as unmoved as Master lose his composure so much upon hearing that the road down the mountain is blocked?"
"If you say it's because of you, Miss, then why won't you drink the osmanthus and red bean soup?"
Shen Zhiyi raised an eyebrow, her eyes immediately showing interest.
"He didn't drink?"
Shen Bi asked curiously, "I asked the young master, and I heard that when it was served, the soup bowl was still full, and the master didn't even touch the spoon."
Shen Zhiyi closed the cosmetic box, a faint smile playing on her lips.
"This is an unexpected delight."
"Joy?" Chen Bi asked, puzzled. "He doesn't drink Miss's soup, so how can it still be a joyous occasion?"
Shen Zhiyi leaned her elbow on the table, lazily turned her head, and smiled, "The Buddha said that all beings are equal. He accepted my soup but refused to drink it, which shows that his state of mind has changed and he treats me differently."
"He has developed a sense of separation from me."
"Isn't this a joyous occasion?"
Her smile deepened, and her eyes sparkled, making the whole room shine.
Shen Bi was stunned for a moment.
Coming to her senses, she was both surprised and delighted. "Miss, in that case, we must press our advantage!"
Shen Zhiyi's eyes flickered slightly, and she tapped the table.
"Go and bring me the lamp oil I prepared."
Since he's started to feel distant from her, she wants him to know that he still has feelings for her...
Master Kongchen was ultimately different from others.
...
As dusk settles, the lamps under the eaves begin to glow.
Inside the meditation room.
Yan Zhuoxu held the ink brush, its strokes meandering across the Xuan paper.
"Shariputra, form is not different from emptiness, emptiness is not different from form; form is emptiness, emptiness is form. Sensation, perception, volition, and consciousness are also like this."
"Shariputra, all dharmas are empty in nature, neither arising nor ceasing, neither defiled nor pure, neither increasing nor decreasing."
Knock knock knock—
"Master Kongchen, are you there?"
A gentle female voice shattered my thoughts.
The brush and ink stopped abruptly.
"Master, if you haven't rested yet, could you please open the door for a chat? I have something to say to you."
Yan Zhuoxu lowered his gaze.
A gust of wind swept in from outside the window, stirring and turning the copied scriptures on the table.
His hand remained frozen in mid-air, motionless for a long time.
Snap—
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